


Before Sleep

by MuzaiYuuzai



Series: Restless [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuzaiYuuzai/pseuds/MuzaiYuuzai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Miles C. Lancaster has a drunken one night stand he does it right. But when he wakes up next to Trent DeMarco, Miles thinks he may have overdone it. With family emergencies, caffeine withdrawal and car troubles, can Miles get out of it without any kind of romantic inclinations towards his hated enemy?  Not your typical one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This was written around 2009 ish and as a way of getting me to finish the series Yuu pestered me to put it up here. More will be coming

Morning came early, bright sunlight streaming through the window pouring light across a young man’s face. He shifted uneasily as his awareness slowly returned. It was incredibly warm and he shoved at the blankets bunched over his shoulder. When the fabric refused to move he groaned and began to push himself into a sitting position. As he moved he realized the large quilt from his grandmother was being held to his body by an arm. An arm that most certainly did not belong to him.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the arm of another blond young man, well a man older than himself; but still young. A man, he had the spectacular misfortune of knowing. A man he really didn’t like. A man who was the closest thing he had to a mortal enemy. Well, it really wasn't that serious, but he liked to think so.

Shock set in and he scrambled from under the limb, rolling from the bed. As his feet touched the ground, his legs buckled dropping him unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor.  Biting back a yelp of pain, he instantly noted his body's sensitivity. The surprising tenderness of his nether regions left nothing to the imagination. Absolutely nothing to the imagination and in the situation at hand, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Rising onto his knees, Miles peeked over the edge of his bed examining the occupant swaddled in his blankets. To his surprise, he found himself face to face with a pair of gorgeous blue eyes. It was an awe inspiring moment, at least until Trent DeMarco opened his mouth.

“Looks like sleeping beauty won't need that kiss after all."

Flabbergasted, the blond on the floor stared back at his annoying classmate. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, mentally ordering his libido to take a hike.

"Me? What about you?" Trent asked sitting up, the blankets pooling in his lap.

"I live here." Miles stammered curling his fingers in the soft fabric wrapped about his legs and middle. Closing his mouth, he waited less than casually for the jock in his bed to answer.

Arching an eyebrow at the owner of the room, DeMarco kept on with the questioning, rubbing a hand across his neck. The floor bound teen's eyes couldn't help but follow the trailing fingers as they moved along the hickey'd skin of his throat. Skin that Mile slowly realized he must have bitten at some point during the night, just as his companion must have bitten his. It was tender to the touch, much like various parts of his body, but yet unlike a particular part of his anatomy. Hunched in the middle of his room, staring up at the cruel yet chiseled features of a football wielding Adonis, it was readily apparent Miles' libido had decided to stick around for the floor show.

A less than kind voice broke his concentration as the broad shouldered youth in his bed attempted to gain his attention. Blinking dumbly, Miles snapped back from his own thoughts as the query was repeated once again.

“What are you doing?”

Closing his mouth, Miles looked away sucking on his abused lip as his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Me? Wondering what you're doing here."

Silence reigned for nearly a minute before Trent finally moved, rolling his eyes as he gestured to the geek's current state of undress.

"You know it's pretty obvious..."

To be frank, it was rather obvious what had happened. The soreness plaguing the lower half of his body made it seem even more so. Shifting uncomfortably, Miles leaned forward assessing the jock's nonchalance.

"You don't seem bothered by it..."

Inspecting the faint marks on his torso, Trent shrugged. "People make mistakes, especially when they're hammered; you should see some of the girls I've gone home with."

“I'll pass thanks...” Nodding calmly, the shorter of the pair continued, at least until the intent of the statement hit him."-are you calling me a mistake?"

"You sure as hell weren't on purpose."

Lancaster rolled his eyes before jerking his head to the stairs. "Alright DeMarco, you've overstayed your welcome. It’s time for you to go."

Stretching once more, Trent rose from the bed, dragging the sheet covering his body as he surveyed the room ignoring it's occupant's demands. The bedroom, by the look of it was a finished attic. The bed was shoved against the window, to the direct left of the stairs. Settled against the wall to the right of the other window was an old dresser covered with books, junk, and overflowing with clothes.

His inspection was short-lived when the creak of an old door echoed beneath them. Trent turned just in time to see a look of unabashed terror steal across Miles' face. Without a word, his reluctant host dove into a corner, burying himself in a pile of discarded clothes just as the sound of bare feet heralded the appearance of an angelic creature at the top of the stairs. She was short, with a face that could be described as cherubic. The little girl’s coloring was expressively tan and her dark hair while intricately curled, was somewhat mussed. She wore a long T-shirt that dangled down to her knees. Before Trent could remark upon the presence of the child in the doorway, he found himself tackled to the mattress he’d only recently vacated.

"Morning.” the cheery bundle chirped, face buried into his solar plexus.

“Morning,” Trent replied, hesitantly trying to regain the ability to breathe.

The child pulled back, tipping her head to examine the person before her.

“You’re not Miles.” She announced after a moment of scrutiny.

“I try not to be.”

Turning towards her brother, who was waist deep in Trent's clothes, she rapidly fired questions at him. "Who’s this, a friend? Didja have a sleepover, how come you get to have one and I don't?” Peering up to examine Trent she continued the barrage.  "Is he gay too? Is he your boyfriend?”

Ignoring the line of questioning, DeMarco busied himself with keeping up his impromptu toga from slipping down his hips. From his position, Miles could see the welts marring Trent's back, a product of his own hand. Flushing, he cleared his throat drawing the attention of his sibling and his guest. "Not really, yeah, because I um never mind, don't ask s'not polite and most of all absolutely not."

Shaking his head, the teen continued, "Casey, this is Trent. DeMarco, this is my sister, do her a favor and pull up that sheet."  Grudgingly, the football player did as ordered as Casey Lancaster threw her arms about her brother's head. "Mom and Dad are gone, Uncle R is taking his shift at the hospital, he says he'll call if there's any change.”

Nodding sagely Miles pried the young girl's fingers from his hair.

"Right...So hungry?"

"Ravenous." She giggled, grinning back at him.

"Alright, why don’t you head back down and we'll see what we can scrounge."

"Kay." His sister answered, before bouncing back down the steps.

“We?” Trent asked pulling his jeans out of the haphazard pile of clothing carpeting the floor.

“Leaving so soon?” Miles countered, tossing on the first piece of fabric that resembled clothing. Trent scowled as the skinny teen put on his shirt.

“I'm not taking the walk of shame from your house.”

“It's only the walk of shame if you regret it...”

“Funny.”

“You could go down the drain pipe,” Miles gestured to his tiny window that was facing the back roof.  There was no way Trent was making it out there. He doubted anyone could.

“Or you could stay for breakfast.” Miles smiled weakly.

Trent hesitated as Miles fiddled awkwardly with the buttons of the borrowed shirt. Tugging his boxers out of the tangle of jeans, Miles glanced up, eyes searching Trent's face. The look he was giving was unreadable, and Trent didn't feel the pressing urge to disappoint.

"Fine..."

"Great, the pipe is a little rusty."

With the conversation finished, Trent got back to getting dressed. His fingers closed around the knot and it was undone, the blanket dropped and Miles was undone. The geek openly stared, eyes marveling in the unobstructed view of Trent's crotch. “Do you mind?” The jock inquired pointedly.

“Not really...” His bedmate turned admirer replied truthfully.

"Jealous?”

Miles shook his head, his messy mop of hair rustled as he moved.  "Nu uh pleasantly surprised, aroused even...”  Trent kicked the blanket over Miles head before he could say anything else.

*   *   *

Nearly ten minutes later found the pair marching down from the upper levels of the house, passing by other shut bedrooms and the occasional abandoned Barbie doll in the hallway. As they silently reached the landing at the top of the final staircase, the blond resident looked to his classmate, whispering as loud as he dared. "Brace yourself," and with that warning they were off, well mostly. Pausing in his descent along the spiraling stairs, Miles peered out a side window. The only vehicle inhabiting the driveway was his rusty Corsica.

Inspecting his guest once more Miles tipped his head in confusion.  "Your baby is suspiciously absent from in front of my house… So how did you get here?"

Shoving the geek forward, Trent rolled his eyes.  "I drove stupid."

"Oh- You what?"

"You don't remember?”

“Not really no...” Miles muttered shrugging.

“You really can't hold your liquor, can you?”

“Not really no.”

“You are so hopeless.”

The living room seemed comfortable, lived in as it were. Large bay windows faced the stairs. On the couch sat the little moppet, bouncing excitedly her eyes glued to the screen. Strolling past the couch, Miles rubbed her head affectionately and trooped down the few steps to the dining room. “Food?”

“Hold your horses.”

Lazily Trent followed, eyes scanning the newest room. The table was covered in papers, letters, and the brat's attempt at fine art. Under the chair was the sluggish gray lump, which might have been a dog.

“Morning Mason.” Miles stooped to greet the mutt with a quick scratch to the head. The dog woofed and Miles continued his journey.

It was a small galley kitchen, cluttered with cooking implements and foodstuffs. Under the only clear counter space were a dual washer and dryer. Trent found Miles staring at the counter. The green counter top was filled with foil trays, overflowing with ice.

“Cas? What are these?” Miles asked poking the tray as if it was a foreign object.

“Huh?” The tot was still involved in the latest escapades of the cartoon characters.

“What are these?” Miles repeated.

“Shrimp.” She replied distractedly, quickly turning back to the television.

“Oh.” A quick peek under the aluminum proved her answer to be true.

“Why do you have a pound and a half of shrimp on your counter top?”

“You don’t like shrimp?” Miles asked swiping a few and munching on them.

“They're ok.” Trent was positive the trays arrived sometime after he did, because they’d almost done it there in the kitchen.  As he watched Miles swipe an apron off a stepladder and moved towards the fridge, squeezing past him on his way. It couldn’t be helped really, the kitchen was cramped. But Trent felt no urge to move, not even when Miles’ hip brushed past his own.

“You want eggs?” he asked flipping open the carton.

 “Fine.”     

“How do you like ‘em?” Miles asked.

“Hard.” Trent replies half bored, half hard himself, the cold tiles stinging his bare feet.  Miles simultaneously choked on the shrimp tail and almost dropped the eggs cupped in his palms. Recovering quickly, he whipped around eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Were you flirting?”

“No,” Trent snaps back, the lie coming easily to his chapped lips.

“Okay...” Miles doesn't sound convinced so Trent changed the subject.

"You eat the shells?"

“Yeah it’s rumored to lower cholesterol or something.” Mile muttered rooting around in the spice cabinet. Claiming his prize in the form of rosemary he shuffled back to the fridge and dug out a bottle.  The eggs slipped into the pan, followed by a pinch of rosemary, and a cap full of soy sauce. Tossing the shells into a can nestled between the burners; Miles paused to wipe his hands on the rainbow emblazoned apron.

“Gay?”

Watching his eyes, Miles’ face reddened and he busied himself with the pan on the burner.  “Isn't it obvious?”

“Not really, besides the sex.” Trent lied.

“Sex?”  Miles eyes widened to the size of saucers as his sister repeated the new word.

“It means gender, squirt.” He supplied quickly.

“And other stuff.” Trent elaborated.

“Stuff?”

“Go back to watching TV.” Miles ordered, glaring in Trent's direction.

“Its noon,” Casey grumbled, “All the good cartoons are off and I'm hungry.”

“Then eat cereal.” Miles suggested smashing the yolks with a careless twist of the spatula.

“I did.” She snipped back rocking on her heels.

“How many bowls?”

“Four.”

Miles whirled around, eggs forgotten. Trent caught the spatula before it hit the floor. “Four? When was the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday, before the wedding.” Casey replied, peering in the fridge.

“Really?” Miles wondered, reliving Trent of the still warm implement.

“Yeah everyone's been so busy worrying about the baby no one's really eaten yet...If that’s how I'm gonna be treated when the little bastard is born he might as well stay in Lisa's belly.”

“One day, I'm gonna tell you what was wrong with everything you just said.” Miles chuckled “I'm cooking so why don't you go do something productive.” As if to prove his point the teen dug out a cutting board and started dicing the vegetables, with periodic checks on the status of the eggs. The cubed veggies done, he set to work on a handful of shrimp.

“Productive means setting stuff on fire right?” Casey asked pointing towards the fireplace.

“What did dad say about you and fire?” her brother warned dumping the freshly chopped roughage into the pan.

“We don't mix?”

“Exactly, go have another bowl of cereal.”

“But...”

“No buts, real food comes later right now go stuff yourself with carbs and simple sugars.”

“You make a lousy dad.” Casey muttered, digging out a bowl and depositing it on the counter near the trays.

“Any you make terrible daughter.” Miles countered, stirring the mixture.

“You suck.” She pointed out, muffled by stepladder.

“You stink.”

“Jerk.” She clambered up the stool to reach the cabinets and the cereal,

“Brat.”

“Homo.” Claiming her prize, Casey jumped down and shoved the ladder back into place.

Trent snorted; but Miles ignored the noise in favor of his sister. “Where did you get that?” He turned to glare down at her.

“Syd and she's right... homo.” Casey tipped the Frosted Flakes box and found it completely empty. Glaring, she swore softly and tossed the box into the trash.

“And you're gonna end up just like her.”

“Argh!” Screwing her eyes shut Casey waved her arms dramatically and flopped onto the floor. Rather startled, Trent stared at the girl lying prone on the white tiles.

“Don't do anything, you'll just encourage her.” Miles warned turning off the burner. She opened one eye cautiously as Miles stepped over her to get plates from the cabinet behind his guest. “Get up and go to the table.”

“Tyrant.” she insisted, rolling to her feet.

“Ungrateful peasant.” her brother muttered, depositing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her.

“Your offering is accepted.” she commented before attacking the food.

“Shush before I give it to the dog.”

*   *   *

After a rather interesting lunch, filled with potshots and rude gestures, Casey retreated to her chores. She insisted her brother and his not-boyfriend would play with her once she was finished. Miles piled the dishes in the washer and pretended he hadn't almost enjoyed Trent's company, again. Instead he tossed the jock some towels and shoved him towards the bathroom.

"Shower's kinda finicky, but it works fine."

The door shut and Miles could finally focus on cleaning up the kitchen. Or so he thought. A few swipes of the rag and he heard the shower spring to life. He turned towards the door, the only thing separating him and Trent.  God, he had a problem.

Pushing down his libido again, he went back to wiping the stove. He finished quickly tossing accumulated debris into the trash before cleaning his own hands. Picking up the broom, he attacked the dusty tiles with vigor. Anything to keep him from staring at the door like it was the bloody Ark of the Covenant, concealing something so brilliant precious and entirely out of his league. He had a brief thought of his face melting away from a brilliant glimpse of the treasures like a power mad Nazi.

Tossing the rag into the sink, Miles wandered into the living room to check the food dish of his furry best friend. The great mastiff lifted its head and barked once before lying back down on its massive paws. Strange, the dog in question hardly ever barked. Miles shrugged off the unique antics of the canine and refilled his water dish.  Mason barked again and shut his eyes, his tail thumping against the table leg.

In the quiet, Miles heard the shower running, Casey trouping around her room and the rattling of a door knob.

In that moment, the teen was instantly alert, the sound couldn't have come from the back door, no one used it anyway. The sound came again and it wasn't from the front, Miles had a clear shot of the white door from his position in the kitchen entrance.

All at once he heard a creak and then it hit him. The side door, the old one that opened out into the den. Through the hall, past the basement door, in the den around the corner, against the wall was the side door. It was barely used, hardly remembered. Nobody in the family even knew where the key was.

All thought fled from the teen's mind as the hall door swung open. Seizing the broom, he awaited the worse and was pleasantly surprised as Walter Lancaster stepped into the room.

“Hey Milton.”

“Dad?”

At his surprised shout, Casey tore down the stairs to find the source of the commotion.

“Dad?” She curiously parroted her brother's surprised yell.

“Is there an echo?” Walter asked rubbing his youngest daughter's head before turning to his son, “You disappeared early.”

“Yeah well I wasn't doing anyone any good by panicking.” Miles answered rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you doing back?”

“I left my cufflinks here in all the commotion.” His father explained, moving towards the kitchen.

“Oh where are they? I'll go get them for you.” Miles answered quickly stepping forward to bar his father's progress.

“Well, you're acting suspicious.” The man noted peering down at his teenage son.

“No, I'm not.” Miles countered, resisting all attempts to be moved.

“I'm your father I usually know when you're hiding something.” Walter replied.

“Well you would if I was, but I'm not.” Miles shrugged.

“Milton Christopher Lancaster, don't you lie to my face.”

“Dad I'm not-” Miles pleaded.

“Done.” Trent announced stepping out of the tiny bathroom, steam pouring out in his wake.

“Who is that?” Walter asked pointing to the stranger in the kitchen.

“Miles' not-boyfriend.” Casey chirped catching Trent's arm and hauling him to the stairs.

“Trent isn't my boyfriend.” Miles sputtered.

“Exactly.” His sister replied.

While Casey instructed Trent on the finer points of button brawling.  Miles set about making another pan of eggs. A mite perturbed, his paternal unit leaned against the fridge and demanded an explanation.

“Nah. Roll and choke, take that bitch!” Casey crowed bouncing on the sofa.

Miles looked to his father and frowned “You made that.”

“No, I was given that. And I'm thankful.” His father corrected, smiling at the exuberant girl.

“So what am I, chopped liver?”

“No... You,” Walter began stressing the words as he spoke, “are my one and only son, the only one who can and will carry on the family name.”

“Uh Dad there is just one problem to that plan.”

“What's his name?”

“Umm no not that…not yet, no not him…erggg.” Rolling his eyes, the blond swirled the spatula in the pan and turned up the heat.

“I mean your guest Milton, if that's all he is...”

“Trent? Well he's just someone from school.”

“He looks like a footballer.”

“Yeah, He does.”

“Quarterback?”

“Nope,” Miles shook his head before peering back at his dad. “Tight end.”

“Not bad.” His father commented.

“I'll say,” Miles almost smiled but stopped himself. ”... never mind.”

Sighing good naturedly, Walter ducked into the refrigerator, retrieving a bag of shredded cheese.  “Better than your sister at any rate.”

“Who Syd?”

“Who else?” Walter replied, handing him the package.

Making a face, Miles accepted the offering tossing the sliced dairy product over the still hot eggs.  “I'm telling her you said that.”

“Good saves me the trouble.”  Pausing in the conversation the elder Lancaster stepped back to allow his son to transfer half of the omelet on to a plate.

“So, is this Trent a friend?”

“Sorta.”

“Who showers here?” He inquired less than subtly.

“How does that-”

”Sam doesn't even shower here.”

Grabbing the ketchup from the fridge, Miles shoved it and the plate into his father's hands before hustling him towards the dining room. Pausing to grab a fork he replied casually to the curious line of questioning.

“Sam only avoids showering when Syd's home, Trent gave me a ride from the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, you were a little drunk.” Walter amended spearing a forkful of fluffy yellow eggs.

“Some caring parent...” Miles groused in return bracing his elbow on the table.

“I show I care by giving you the freedom your mother doesn't.”

“Isn't that just an excuse for being neglectful?”

“You're not too old to be spanked, Milton.” came the reply accentuated by a waving fork.

“Hell at this age, I might enjoy it.”

“Let's pretend I didn't hear that.”

“Okay,” Agreed the teen, “but what do you want to hear?”

“Just tell me the truth. Why is he still here?”

“You won't like it...” Miles admitted, turning to watch his sister and guest.

“Miles, you're my son. I don't have to like what you do but I still have to love you.”  That wasn’t the response he’d expected. His father knew about his lifestyle and was less than thrilled.

“Sowing my wild oats?” He shrugged helplessly before his old man.

“Sexually active already? Did you use protection?”

“Dad!” Miles sputtered nearly falling from his chair.

“Just making sure you're practicing safety.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Miles begged, running a hand through his hair.

“Of course.” Walter amended, chewing on some toast.

“How's Lisa?” Miles inquired.

“Good last time I checked, your uncle is getting impatient; he says the baby should just pop already.”

“Just like a Lancaster to be late.” Miles smiled, thankful for the change in topics.

Four rounds into the battle for supremacy, the front door swung open and Sydney Lancaster slipped in, dumping her fashionable but entirely unsuitable boots by the door. Sliding across the smooth wood on her striped socks she greeted her family in turn.  “Brat, Miles, Pops.” she nodded before turning on Trent. “New guy, hi.”

“Hey.” Trent replied eying the strange woman. With long brown hair pulled back to her neck nearly reaching the end of her purple tank she grinned at him and waggled her fingers. She was hot, no question but most likely off limits, considering the fact he'd slept with her brother. He did have morals.

“He's taken.” Casey chirped fingers flying over the controller. ”So put it back in your pants.”

Swiping Trent's controller Sydney grinned. Three quick button taps, and the figure on screen preformed a vicious submission move driving Casey's character into oblivion and obtaining victory.

“Fuck!” Casey swore as her on screen counterpart pounded her fists against the mat. Dropping the controller in Trent's lap, Syd laughed and slid down into the living room.

“Watch your mouth.” Their father admonished, before accepting a kiss from the second eldest of his children.

Skirting the edge of the table Syd stepped over Mason as she headed into the kitchen reaching for the fridge.  We got anything that isn't a leftover?” the young woman whined, tapping a foot against the kitchen tiles.

“There's eggs on the stove.” Miles pointed out; despite the fact she wasn't even looking.

“Thanks minion,” she crooned affectionately before changing topics yet again.

“So, why are you here Pops?”

“Somebody had to watch out for the youngest and as far as I knew your brother was drunk.”

Dropping into a seat beside the protesting youth Sydney winked at her father.  “He's such a lush, this guy.”

“You're the one that gave me the liqueur.” Miles said clearing away the dishes.

“It was scotch, actually.” Syd corrected, grinning shamelessly.

“Sydney?” Walter turned on her, a frown crossing his features.

“Oh look at the time.” she stammered, glancing unconvincingly at the clock over the mantle.

“You hold it right there young lady.” Her father ordered.

“And we're going back to that daddy dearest? Isn’t that a job for the custodial parent?”

Before his father could answer, Miles pushed his chair from the table and strode to the living room. Catching Trent’s arm, he tugged gently. “And that's our cue to leave, C'mon.”

“But I wanna play some more!” Casey said, catching Trent's unclaimed arm.

“You can have him later.” Miles promised, leaning across Trent's lap to press a kiss to his sister's forehead.

“Promise?”

Catching the drift, Trent lifted his hand, his pinkie finger extended. “Promise.”

Satisfied Casey Lancaster allowed the teens to slip out the front door as the impromptu parental discussion began.

Strolling down the uneven driveway to his car, Miles gestured for Trent to follow.  With nothing better to do he followed the shorter teen running a hand through his hair.  “It’s open,” Miles said sliding into the driver’s side. He climbed into the passenger seat and found it a little cramped.  Riffling under the seat he found the lever and shoved the chair as far back as it would go. A soft swear drew his attention and he turned to watch Miles curling in his seat trying scoot the damn thing forward. When he finally buckled his seat and started the engine Trent finally broke the silence.

“What now?”

Backing the car down the driveway, Miles spared him a dumb look.  “I'm giving you a ride back to the hospital... And pretending this never happened.”

”I can get back on my own...” Trent supplied.

“Sure you can, but I have business there,” Miles insisted, “You’re getting the ride and no arguments, after that we’re even.”

Unsure of anything else to say or any argument to make DeMarco closed his mouth and leaned back into the seat. But not before fiddling with the radio dial.

*   *   *

Within the sacred halls of the Sacred Heart of Tranquility General Hospital, Miles found just who he was looking for, a curly haired sour puss that passed for his mother’s older brother.

“Hey Uncle R!”

At the shout the aforementioned man bearing black sunglasses and a lit cigarette turned greeting his sister's progeny, “Hey yourself.”

Grinning at the familial relation Miles dropped into the seat beside him glancing furtively at the pale white doors.  “Aren't they gonna give you hell for that?” He asked gesturing to the cigarette.

Snorting the elder man took a drag and let it go, watching the rising wisps of smoke curl and dissipate in the air.  “They already tried, but I flashed them my badge. They ain't said no more about it.”

“What are you like some secret police?”

Sparing Trent a glance over his sunglasses, he frowned, “Cute, who's your friend?”

“Trent…he gave me a ride home…” Miles answered.

“Oh yeah? You were a little drunk.”

“Why does everyone keep pointing that out?”

“Because you’re funny smashed, just like your mom.”

Trent resisted the smirk that threatened to cross his lips. 

“Thanks,” Miles sighed crossing his arms. “Look I gotta get him to his car, then I'll come sit with you.”

“Sure kid,” The man replied, leaning back in the seat.  ”Whatever.”

With a quick wave, Miles hustled Trent outside to the parking lot rolling his eyes. The jock however couldn’t resist inquiring about it.  “What’s that about?”

“Nobody asks about his job, some government thing. He’s been real pissed recently, must have been something big.”

Standing in the street, Trent didn’t bother to reply, he hadn’t even been listening. In fact he was staring out at the parking lot and his missing car. His sole attention was focused on the fact his Baby was missing. “It’s gone.” He declared eyes scanning the parking lot for that unique hint of blue.

“Dude, where’s your car?” Miles asked, smothering a smirk.

Trent turned on him eyes flashing. “You think this is funny?”

“A little.” Miles admitted, before quickly raising his hands to ward off Trent’s temper. “Chill where did you park?”

“There.” Trent jerked his thumb to the obviously empty spot that once held his vehicle.

“In the fire zone?” Miles asked carefully.

Trent turned back to inspect the sign posted over his former parking spot. “Fuck.”

Patting his shoulder the younger, of the pair fished his keys from his pockets.  “C’mon, it’s probably been impounded.”

“You are totally paying the fee.”

“Why?  You parked there.”

“I would have been back earlier if it weren’t for you…” Trent accused.

“So sorry that you’re such a nice guy.” Miles groused heading back to through the parking lot.  The jock followed at a more sedate pace silently swearing at whoever had touched his precious car.

The Impound lot to their great chagrin was as shut and silent as their own High School on this so-called bright summer day. Neither teen could believe that they were staring at the cheery out to lunch sign, but nevertheless there it was.

“It's closed.” Trent mumbled, it seemed he was in shock.

“Yep.” Miles replied brightly inspecting the bottom of his sneaker which apparently had gum on it.

“Your timing is impeccable.” The Tight end sighed.

“I'm hungry.” Miles muttered staring at the sign.

“So?”

“To the liquor store!” The exclamation was punctuated with a dramatic flourish. With nothing else to do, off they went.

*   *   *

Zack’s Liquor Store was on the corner of Farm and Tylor about two minutes from the lot and Miles second favorite place for snacks.  The door chimed open and Miles made a beeline for the refrigerated section, greeting the attendant as he hurried past. “Hey Penny.” The red head leaning over a magazine looked up to watch him disappear down the last aisle.

“Hey Minion...what will it be?” She asked hand poised over the register.

 “Usual.” He called moving to the counter, a large bottle of Mountain Dew tucked under his arm as he snagged a bag of cheese curls.

“Gimme five we'll call it square.” She replied fingers flying over the buttons.  Trent dropped the bill on the counter before Miles had a chance to reach his wallet.

“You made breakfast.” He answered, when Miles looked at him.

“Breakfast of champions.” He announced scooping up his prizes.

“It's lunch, you have a problem.” Trent said.

“I know. Can't help it, crazy metabolism.”

Leaning on the hood of his car, Miles tore into the bag balancing the cold bottle between him and his companion. To his surprise the jock stole a few of the fake cheese covered puffs and looked towards the road watching the cars. Blinking Miles figured he had to say something. Anything. All at once it came out in a rush.  “Trent. I-”  At the sound of his name the teen turned, bright powder staining his lips, as he met the eyes of the speaker.  “... forgot the milk, gimme a sec.”

Jumping to his feet the blond launched into the store leaving Trent behind confused. Even so it was impossible for him to miss the hooded man stalking forward to slip inside the door before it swung shut.  Unnerved to the point of action, DeMarco stood and set the bag of puffs aside as he too moved for the door.

Returning once again from the refrigerated section, Miles wandered up to the counter grinning at the older teen.  “Back so soon?” she inquired softly batting her eyes in his direction.

“I just couldn't stay away...” Miles answered flippantly before a weight settled on his shoulder. He turned but found it wasn’t Trent touching him but a gun too ridiculous to be anything other than real.

“Well...”

Penny, to her credit, didn’t scream as the man moved closer, pushing Miles into the candy display at the counter. “Open up the register!”

“What?”

“Give me all your money!”

“Oh my god, you’re robbing this place?” She demanded incredulously.  Torn between laughing hysterically and screaming Miles began breathing hard the milk dropping from his fingers as he panicked. The would-be gunman seemed surprised and shouted for him to shut up as Penny leaned forward to look. At the movement his attention shifted to the red head and he screamed again, pointing the gun wildly as she stumbled back.

Ever the gentleman, Mile interjected loudly waving his arms.  “Hey don't shoot; here I'll give you my wallet too. Just don't shoot her.”

The hooded teen turned on him growling as he spoke

“Don't try to be a hero.”

Shaking his head Miles reached into his pocket tossing the rainbow striped wallet to the floor.

“Oh that's the last thing on my mind.”

It was at that moment Trent DeMarco chose to act. Peering from behind the third aisle, Trent chose an appropriate projectile and threw. The jar of mayonnaise flew over the chips and shattered harmlessly behind the gunman. The man jumped surprised at the sound and Miles shoved the gun away.  Unwilling to give up the angry youth struggled with Miles trying to knock him back. Resorting to dirty tactics Miles Lancaster leaned forward and pressed his lips to those of the thief’s.

To the utter shock and surprise of those present the robber stumbled away covering his mouth as the gun dropped from his hands. Unwilling to take chances, Trent still clobbered him over the head with the dented jug of milk. He went down like a guy hit over the head with a jug of milk, right into the shattered bottle of mayonnaise as milk poured from the popped jug.

Staring at the mess Miles snatched his wallet from the floor, tucking it back into his pocket.  “I'm not paying for that...”

“Do you think he’s ok?” Penny inquired softly leaning from the counter.  Staring at the man on the floor Trent looked at Miles “You kissed him!”

“That looks painful.” Was his only reply. 

“And getting shot isn’t?” asked Penny cradling a cell phone to her ear.

“Don’t change the subject.” DeMarco snapped before looking back to Miles.

“Wait what?” The teen was almost as confused as the gunman had been.

“You kissed him.”

“I kissed you.” Miles replied flippantly.

Any other comment was cut off as Penny called their attention. “You guys don’t mind staying to give a police report do you?”

Unable to come up with any other answer, both teens nodded at once and Miles wandered back outside to get his snacks.

In the end it wasn’t just the police that showed up, but a sizable crowd and a news crew all in the space of an hour. It took another half an hour before they finally managed to get back to the impound lot only to find it closed until Monday. The resulting trip back to Miles’ house was filled with loud music and even louder swearing. Both abruptly stopped the moment the pair stepped into the house.

Casey was sitting on the couch flipping channels as Sydney’s voice rose from the living room as she chattered in the phone.

“Guess who that was?”

“Should I care?” Miles asked dejectedly.

“Penny.” Syd supplied.

“Oh.” Miles muttered.

“Shit.” Trent finished.

“She says you and your boyfriend were amazing.” Syd gushed.

“Boyfriend?” Trent echoed.

“Finally come to terms?” Casey asked grinning.

“Hush,” Sydney chided and then turned back to Miles “Guess who else called?”

“Mom.” Casey interjected quickly, jabbing the remote buttons.

“What did you tell her?” Miles asked warily.

“That you foiled a robbery and you were gonna be on the news.”

“She wants us to tape it.” Casey added waving the VCR remote.

At that Trent really did laugh.

Before Miles could go wreck havoc upon the young man whom everyone assumed was his boyfriend, he was interrupted by the shrill chime of the phone. Rolling her eyes Sydney snagged it from the cradle and pressed the receiver to her ear.  “Grand Central Station.” She announced dryly.

All at once her jaw dropped and she turned toward the residents of the house eyes wide. “It’s coming.” She proclaimed loudly.

“Oh Thank God.” Casey exclaimed in reply.

No one bother reprimanded her as the as the Lancaster family ran for door. Almost as dumbfounded Trent found himself dragged along for the ride.

The trip was frantic; Mr. Lancaster sped through traffic while Sydney tried to distract herself. She fussed with her hair, purse, and the radio, anything to keep her occupied. Miles sat in the back with Trent, Casey squeezed comfortably between them as they went over potential baby names. They were halfway through the alphabet when the car made a complete stop.

Rushing through the parking lot the quintet slipped through the automatic doors just in time to see Uncle R leaning against a doorway looking rather smug. “You missed all the fuss…but at least you got here. Come on.” He ordered, gesturing for the family to follow.

Trent shifted Casey in his arms and wandered along behind wondering exactly what he’d gotten himself into. The halls were as bright as they had been last night, but Miles didn’t care. Stumbling down the corridor he realized his socks were mismatched. Making a face he hoped nobody noticed. It was at that point he found himself in the hospital room of his eldest sister.

Lisa was glowing or not, it may have been the light but the teen was sure he’d never seen his sister so happy. He opened his mouth to make explanations, but Casey beat him to it, wiggling down from DeMarco and moving towards the family. Miles gave a sheepish grin but turned back to them, the smile spreading across his face.

Letting the young girl go, Trent found himself stepping back from the picturesque scene before him.  The room was cramped, and he instantly knew the father of the baby by the ridiculously giddy grin he wore, Mrs. Lancaster because she was looked just like her children; except Casey who was clambering close to the hospital bed to hug her sister. In the corner sat a grizzled old biddy that Miles smothered with affection, before he finally entreated the mother.  “Can I hold the baby?”

“Of course.” Lisa whispered, smoothing Casey’s bangs from her head,. Everyone watched proudly as the father laid the newborn into his brother-in-law’s arms.

Miles laughed as the infant wiggled in his arms and sudden tears streamed down his face. Kissing the crown of his new nephew he couldn’t help but burble incoherently. The family stared at once, but Trent moved forward patting his shoulder in what he hoped was a calming manner. Sydney smirked from behind her camera phone and the second youngest Lancaster added her two cents. “Told ya.”

Ignoring the hustle, Trent looked from Miles to the baby and found himself addressing the elder of the pair. “Why are you crying?”

Moving away, Miles passed the infant to his grandmother’s capable hands and turned back to the teen smiling goofily and crying all the same. “Because, I’m not the only boy in the family anymore.”

His exuberance and excitement were punctuated by his sudden kiss to Mr. DeMarco’s lips. Casey made a disgusted sound and his parents didn't sound very approving, but for once Trent didn't seem to care.

*   *   *

Monday morning found Trent and Miles outside the impound lot once more, the new uncle looking ruefully at his wallet as Trent inspected his car. Smirking faintly Miles watched as Trent’s hands smoothed over the vehicle before he stopped, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Trent pulled the door open and climbed into the car twisting the key in the ignition. He rolled down the window as an after thought and looked to Miles.  “Nothing ever changes,”

“Nope, nothing ever does.” Miles replied, “See you around, DeMarco.”

“Good riddance, Lancaster.”

Walking away Miles began humming what sounded like Margaritaville. Almost against his judgment, Trent paused to watch him go, smiling ever so slightly.

 

 

 


End file.
